


Love Me, Love My Scars

by RebelDrFerguson



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alfred POV based, Biting, Dark Past, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Fighting, Flashbacks, Gun Violence, Hormonal Bruce, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, One-Sided Attraction, Post S3, Pre S4, Scars, Swearing, Underage - Freeform, blowjob, injuries, thoughts of murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 04:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12904587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelDrFerguson/pseuds/RebelDrFerguson
Summary: He’d only taken drugs in the Marines. Alfred had been tough on himself not to fall victim to the masses of drugs roaming Gotham's streets ever since Bruce had been born. When Thomas and Martha had died, he spent six weeks downing painkillers to cope with the heartache of caring for the orphaned boy. Now Bruce was growing, moving on, thinking more like a man every day and getting himself into deeper and deeper trouble that Alfred had found himself swearing to die for the boy. Enough that somehow he was holding a needle and praying the pain in his chest let him sleep.





	1. Cloud Nine

**Author's Note:**

> Set end of S3 but before S4.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(COVER)

 

**CLOUD NINE**

 

At one time it was just a car on a corner, a gap in the window, a twenty dollar note and a plastic bag with four tablets, so small he could hide it in his glove. Then it was different alleyways behind bars, behind offices, two men and a hundred dollars for grass in a small box disguised in wrapping paper that was blown into the wind late at night. 

Alfred alternated between, sometimes even took both and stashed them for when he truly needed the fix.

“Here you go guv” 

He’d grown bored of the dirty smirk the shadowed man always gave him when he held out the money. 

Two hundred out of pocket, he took the bottle and tucked it into his jacket. This is where he knew there was no going back. There was no flushing it away, no late night pacing or coffee and reading that could take the need away. 

The hospital had said he was fine, his Doctors said the tramadol they had prescribed was enough. 

But for Alfred, nothing took away the pain in his chest but the strongest stuff, so he was left to purchase stolen bottles of morphine from dealers behind the clinics. 

He’d only used it once, late at night, panting and shaking unable to breathe or lay down for the pain, he’d taken the syringe he had spare from the nurse that used to visit and watched as the clear liquid seeped into his veins. Felt himself fade away.

Finally fell asleep undisturbed. 

Through everyday life no one would have known, to see him dressed to the nines, trying to keep the young heir he was now officially in charge of on a shorter leash. Trying to keep him from the stitches and bandages. 

For months Bruce had cried alone, bitten and fought, argued and disagreed. But now he was free of Ra’ and Alfred was back to his feet, life was tilting at one hundred and eighty degrees. The young teen was determined to grow, could be found at either his computer, in the gym or roaming Gotham chasing the street kids. 

It wasn’t until Alfred ran into Jim one evening coming out of the medical centre did the butler realise he’d have to find better excuses to hide. 

“Alfred?”

The older man turned to spy the young cop descending the steps, a fresh set of stitches in his head and his arm in a sling. 

“Hello, Jim.” He was tired and empty, he could feel the eyes of the dealer in the alleyway a few feet away. 

“What are you doing out here this late, Bruce wandering again?” Jim asked quietly glancing at the two nurses in the carpark smoking. 

“Oh you know him, I can’t do much about it, he asked me to walk about and look for that damned girl again.” He lied carefully, hands in the pockets of his overcoat. 

Jim seemed to eye him over and he realised he must look a bit of a mess. He’d not shaven for two days or showered that morning. He was still dressed fairly smartly, but lacking his waistcoat and it was rare he wore the dark woollen greatcoat this early in the autumn, only when he went for his fix.

Whatever Jim had seen hardened his gaze but he said nothing, stepping back and looking at the car where Harvey was parked. “I’ll let you go find her then...best try the market if I were you.” He offered with a forced smile and turned on his heel towards the car.

Alfred didn't even bother with a goodbye and merely pretended to play with his phone until the car was out of sight and dived into the alleyway. 

Four hundred this time. Two bottles that should hold him out this month at least. 

When he got back to the manor he found Bruce standing in the hall looking confused. “Where have you been? It doesn’t take an hour to fetch milk.” 

Alfred gulped turning to shut the main door carefully. “I ran into Jim, got talking that’s all lad.”

Bruce was getting smart. Well, he was teaching him to spot things, teasing out the boy's detective side further to help him see things in his mind before engaging in fights, to know when to lie or reach for a weapon.

When to be Bruce Wayne and when to hide behind a mask. 

Setting the carrier bag on the kitchen table he shrugged off his coat, making back to the hall and hanging it up, reminding himself to fetch the bottles of morphine once Master Bruce had gone to bed. He couldn’t risk the boy seeing them. 

Kettle on and a packet of doughnuts on the table, Bruce’s curiosity about Alfred’s night time wander faded and he settled into the sugary treats. 

“It still hurt?” Bruce asked, pausing in licking away the sugar from his fingers.

Alfred broke from his thoughts and blinked realizing he’d been rubbing his chest with the heel of his palm. 

“Little bit...the cold doesn't help.” He sighed picking up his teacup to distract himself. 

“That why you got your coat out?” Bruce asked looking back to the door where he could just see the greatcoat hanging on the coat stand. 

Alfred swallowed and nodded gently. It was a decent excuse, it was September and he was only a month out of the hospital. When he looked back up to the boy in front of him he felt guilty. The distress and guilt in the boy's eyes bled out, for such an unspoken teen Bruce’s eyes gave away his emotions. 

“I’m fine.” He tried to appease but it did nothing to the grief Bruce held over himself, he knew that. 

“I still hurt you, the water didn’t exactly cure what I did.” Bruce huffed reaching for his own cup.

“I know you think you did but it wasn’t you, he killed me, you saved me, it’ll take a bit more to put this bulldog down” Alfred smirked when he finally saw a smile grace the young teens face.

Glancing to his watch he waved a hand and stood. “Bedtime, come on it's almost eleven Master Bruce and you have a meeting with your board at nine.” 

“Do I have to?”

Alfred froze and turned confused seeing the grimace on the teen’s face and he went from homely butler to partial parent in seconds. 

“Don’t start. You chose to head the board when I suggested you pick someone else after the reshuffle, but you didn’t listen once again and now you have to deal with the work...now move.” He demanded and Bruce climbed from his stool with another sigh. 

“Good night Alfred” 

“Good Night, sir” 

He watched the boy grab a book from his desk then half stomp his way up the stairs and turn the corridor to his room before Alfred made for the coat rack, taking the bottles and doing his nightly checks carefully before making for his own room in silence. 

**  
  
**

Sat on the bathroom floor adjacent to his room, he unwrapped a new needle from the medical kit. His rooms were far enough away from Bruce’s that the boy wouldn’t hear the paper or the bottles clinking. 

He shrugged off his shirt and pulled the tourniquet around his bicep, leaning against the countersink as he slid the needle home and pressed the plunger. 

Once he’d tossed it aside and pulled the tie free it was a matter of counting before he felt the pain fading, feeling the floor growing less firm beneath his feet and he could finally breathe without the painful reminder of that night and the secrets that plagued him.

**  
  
**

* * *

 

By the next morning, he’d shaved, showered and dressed in record time, he was making Bruce his breakfast when the boy appeared sheepishly. 

“Alfred?” 

“Yes, Master Bruce?” He asked, not turning from the stove top where the bacon and eggs were cooking.

“Is it okay if Selina stays for breakfast?”

Alfred paused for barely a second as he registered the cat girl must have snuck in later on after he’d passed out. Damn. 

“Of course, I’ll set another place.” He offered, adding another set of bacon rashers to the skillet.

“It’s okay, I can do that.” Bruce smiled, his bare feet padding across the cool tiled floor to the fridge to grab the extra milk carton he always made Alfred buy and headed back to the main table. 

What he didn't see was the heated way Alfred was watching him from the corner of his eye. Admiring the way the young teen was filling out, the strength in those once wiry arms and the makings of a six pack slowly showing through. 

He turned back to the food before he was spotted and set about filling the plates to change the track his mind was taking. 

Alfred blamed the drugs, blamed his lack of company for the past fifteen years, even blamed the stress for the sudden feelings he was experiencing. Anything not to admit they might have been there for too long under the surface because the idea made him feel sick. He’d raised the boy from a newborn and the idea that he’d dreamt about the small body back in his bed just made him break out into a cold sweat. 

Rubbing his chest again before carrying the plates into the dining room he decided to take the time Bruce would spend eating to slip outside for a smoke and skip breakfast himself. 

He’d not expect either of the teens to notice his absence for the full hour they ate, nor did Alfred expect Bruce to knock a glass over and head back into the kitchen for paper towels finding Alfred missing. 

“He wasn’t there.” Bruce frowned when he returned to the table with the paper towel roll from the counter.

Selina cocked her head swilling the last of the milk about in the carton. “Does he usually wander off before you’ve finished?” She wasn’t around enough these days to know. 

Bruce shrugged. “He’s usually here to clear up just before I’m done, it’s like he knows how long I take” 

They fell silent as Bruce mopped up the spilt orange juice and Selina stood up. “I’ll just use the toilet before I go” she smiled and left Bruce to clear the plates himself. 

Slipping down the hall she passed the bathroom and ducked into the ground floor study spying the door was ajar, she felt a presence close by but Alfred wasn’t directly in the room. 

She admired the bookcases, the trinkets, the piles of folders and scattered papers before spying the open balcony door and familiar smell drifting ever so slightly in on the wind. 

Approaching carefully she saw Alfred leant against the railing out on the deck staring out into the gardens with a hand-rolled cigarette limp between his fingers. Selina smirked when she realised the smell was coming from the cigarette and stepped up silently to the door seeing an opportunity.

“Steve’s stuff is quite the deal huh?” She said quietly just enough for Alfred to hear and smiled when he spun around in fright, shoving the hand holding the cigarette behind his back like it would help. 

“I-I didn’t hear you come in...finished breakfast?” Alfred spluttered realising he’d been lost in thought out here for some time, his arms prickled with goosebumps from the cool air.

“Yeah, was great... thanks.” She half shrugged, stepping out onto the dew-damp wooden deck. “I’m assuming Bruce doesn't know.” She asked as Alfred eyed her warily.

She had grown rather a bit since he’d first met her, she was faster and far more cunning now than ever and Alfred felt more than sure that she was working for someone from the fact that her jacket was brand new. 

“No…” He admitted knowing full well lying wouldn’t help him here. 

“Don’t worry...I’m not the type to go telling, would hate for you to lose your job for a fix, he can’t be easy to live with, I find him a pain just after an hour.” She admitted smiling and Alfred smiled back nervously. 

“How much?”

Selina tried to look innocent as if she hadn't been about to make him beg for the secret to be kept silent but dropped the act when she knew he wasn't about to fall for the bluff. “Fifty and I’ll bring you the next bag for free.”

Alfred hesitated. Was he really about to bargain with this thief? Would he risk his health? 

The note slid from his palm, slipped into her pocket and she walked away without another word to bid Bruce goodbye. 

* * *

 

Selina kept her promise surprisingly enough, turning up at midnight just as Alfred was shutting up the manor two days later. 

“Here.” She held out the small packet through the window and Alfred took it seeing that it was the genuine thing. “How did you get this without paying?”

“Did him a favour.” She smirked, eyeing the butler’s thoughtful expression before watching his hand go back into his pocket. He held out a hundred pound note. 

“Sixty for you, forty for my next two bags.” He offered and with a cat-like smile Selina took the note. 

“When?” 

“Come over Saturday, I think Master Bruce is going to invite you for lunch” 

“I’ll be there with the goods.” She winked before dashing off back up the wall of the house and into the dark. The easiest money she’d made all week. 

Alfred hated himself for making the girl do his drug runs, but a street dweller would be less questioned for her movements and actions than a gentleman late at night. 

And at least he could be sure she wouldn’t have to go begging whoever she was working for, for more jobs too soon.

It was almost October before Alfred screwed up. A butt left in the ashtray in the kitchen while he answered the door was completely forgotten when Jim came to visit. 

He’d let the man walk into the kitchen without a second thought to grab a glass of water before he remembered and entered to Jim standing by the counter arms folded and face like thunder.

“How long has this been going on?” He asked, voice low and questioning bordering more police officer and not just a concerned family friend. 

Alfred glanced to the ashtray and knew he’d been caught just on scent alone, the smell was potent and a cop like Jim wouldn’t miss it.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He tried only earning himself a sigh. 

“Alfred...I’m not stupid, I’ve arrested drug dealers and takers before, I know the smell of Gotham’s finest bud like I do my coffee on a morning, don’t play dumb.” Jim huffed. 

Alfred’s half innocent look fell flat and turned guilty in seconds and Jim’s eyes softened. “Painkillers not enough?” He asked he’d known about what happened with Ra’ not long after Alfred was admitted to the hospital and had been left to comfort Bruce himself when the facts came to light. 

“Only when I want to sleep…” Alfred growled. “They make me too drowsy to cope during the day so...I-I had no idea where to buy medicinal stuff, it’s not like the Doctor will give me anything more” 

Jim pursed his lips and stood up straight digging in his pocket for a notepad. “Look, it’s not good for you or Bruce that you're doing this, it never will be, but I can get you the legal stuff, it’s stronger, so you're going to have to promise me you’ll restrict yourself, Alfred, lest the kid finds out” 

Alfred looked towards Jim with surprise and concern as he started to note down a number and address. If a cop was giving him help, if he took that help, the precinct would know...the secret could get out. 

“Don’t worry about people knowing, only Harvey and one other cop know about the place so no one but me and you need to know.” Jim said as if reading Alfred’s mind. 

“They might even help you get off it” He said holding out the paper and Alfred gingerly took it. 

“Thank you.” He eventually said breaking the heavy silence not willing to admit he’d got to the point of needing a better deal.

“Don’t worry about it, just promise me you’ll focus on that kid” 

“I’d let Master Bruce stick another sword through me Jim, you don’t need to worry about him” 

**  
  
**

* * *

 

He sent Selina for the package once he had made the order. No questions asked, just what medical centre could they get his details from. The firm simply called themselves a pharmaceuticals supply centre, something a Doctor wouldn’t question when patients needed fast prescriptions. 

Another hundred and he held the box in his lap on his mattress that night after Bruce had gone to bed. He opened it to find three bags of medicinal cannabis and a booklet on ways to use it, helplines for addictions and other ways to cope with chronic pain. 

He had an excuse, he was in fucking pain for Christ’s sake, but he’d been through worse. Why couldn’t he cope anymore? 

It was several days before he succumbed to using it. The feeling sinking through his bones in less than three drags of the joint and he was smiling like an idiot sat on his bedroom balcony watching the lights glitter in the city late at night.

For once he didn’t feel guilty. He felt ashamed, part of him felt like he was failing Bruce by giving into his pain and depression and being unable to ask the young heir for help. 

But the voice in his head came back every time. 

_ “Soldier's aren’t weak. They take the beatings and the abuse that life throws.  _ _ Soldier’s above all others pray for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war. Soldiers, when committed to a task, can't compromise.” _

His task was to raise Bruce to be a better man and his damaged heart wasn’t about to prevent that. 

 

 

 

 


	2. Painkiller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred's rabbit hole is about to be uncovered and will Bruce handle the care his butler needs or will Jim have to step in to hold up the House of Wayne?

 

** PAINKILLER **

 

He was halfway through the first box from the pharmacy when Selina arrived again three weeks later. 

****

He gave her another hundred and she picked up his second order without question once more, hiding it under the bed in his room feeling happier to have a supply so he didn't need to phone every month. 

****

Bruce continued to go about his training and night wandering without question as to why Alfred shut up an hour earlier than usual these days, why he wandered away during breakfast and even after dinner. 

But Alfred hadn’t realised the boy had started to feel the butler was growing bored of him, that maybe the path he was taking was pushing them apart, he knew Alfred hadn’t wanted this but had expected it none the less, letting Bruce do as he wished to his parents will. 

****

Bruce was spending his nights sat beside the fireplace, an open book in his lap abandoned as he thought back over the three and a half years they’d spent together. 

****

He’d be sixteen soon, just a full year away from adulthood. The papers that listed Alfred as his guardian would be dissolved and Bruce would be free to live as he wished, with or without him. 

****

A year ago Bruce would have perhaps been happy to let Alfred walk away, but now he couldn’t think of life without the butler, without the man that had been there since he’d been born. 

****

This mansion had so many unused bedrooms, more than one living space, more than one kitchen, several bathrooms and games rooms, studies, gyms, a conservatory and acres of garden...

****

He’d never be able to work, live and care for a home like this alone. It was harsh to think that he had to keep Alfred just for the work, he felt cruel making him dog tail him around Gotham, just have a use for him rather than treat him like family. 

****

Alfred would always be family. But he couldn’t get the words out unless he wasn't there, he’d told Selina he was family, he’d told someone at the corporation he was family, he’d even told the medics on that blood-stained night he was family. But he had yet to tell Alfred to his face he was more than just a faithful employee. 

In fact, recently he was feeling like more than just family. It was a strange line they walked, his feelings didn’t make sense at times and he hated himself for being so confused, but in the end, he knew, Alfred would always be someone he couldn’t put into words. 

****

* * *

 

****   
  


If Bruce was surprised to find Jim visiting Alfred the next day he didn’t say. The pair fell quiet, huddled a bit close to the kitchen island, whatever they’d been talking about had been in hushed tones and clearly not something Bruce should be in on. 

****

He merely grabbed a can from the fridge and left with merely a greeting to the police officer. 

****

It was like having two fathers at times with those two, Jim seemed to think Alfred couldn’t cope and Alfred was almost violent at keeping anyone who could become a threat as far away as possible. After Jim had fallen to the virus and then saved, he’d been keen to keep tracks on Bruce with the rumours that Ra would at some point reappear.

****

Bruce knew neither man trusted him after what happened. He was sure he’d broken Alfred’s trust at some point but the butler hadn’t given up on him, he’d chased him to the depths of the city and that stung more than anything. Alfred clung to him like a second skin and Bruce began to wonder if he was running from something by letting himself be leashed by a rebel teen. 

****

He paused at the top of the stairs and cracked open the can thinking about where he had left that book on kickboxing. 

****

It hadn’t been in the gym or in his room so he guessed Alfred must have picked it up and made to check the butler’s room when he didn’t find it back in the office bookcase.

****

He found it in the bedside cabinet next to an old photograph of his father and mother and a well-worn copy of War and Peace. 

****

Bruce smirked, Alfred said he hated the book, said it messed with his head. So why did he have a copy of it? Picking it up he frowned. It was lighter than he’d expected, opening it to the first page of chapter one he felt his heart sink at a line that caught his eye.

****

_ “I will have nothing more to do with you, you are no longer my friend, no longer my ‘faithful slave’ as you call yourself!”  _

****

Alfred had been trying to protect him from this path, it was clear someone had planned this game. 

****

He flicked further into the book now curious, finding lines under more quotes further in.

****

_ “Man cannot possess anything as long as he fears death. But to him who does not fear it, everything belongs. If there was no suffering, man would not know his limits, would not know himself” _

****

_ “Here I am alive, and it's not my fault, so I have to try and get by as best I can without hurting anybody until death takes over” _

****

He shut the cover at that and huffed loudly looking around the room. It was spotless, organised and Bruce swore if he opened the wardrobe he’d find all of Alfred's’ clothes in colour and item order. 

****

_ ‘I will not kill’  _

****

Alfred’s mantra to him stuck like a broken record. 

****

It made him realise he’d never asked the old man about his days in the marines or SAS. He’d not asked about his nightmares, the fact that Alfred wasn’t sleeping a lot, he’d been missing meals he was sure of it because he’d insisted Alfred ate with him at the table and since leaving the hospital he’d avoided it. 

****

Alfred had become distant and now Bruce thought harder about it, he was almost hiding. 

****

He started flicking through the book again only to find a hole in the pages just over halfway through. A small metal case sat inside, setting it down he lifted it out and opened it to find five hand-rolled cigarettes. 

****

He couldn’t recall Alfred smoking ever in his life?!

****

Hearing the stairs creak he slotted it back in place, closed the book and made from the room with the one he’d been looking for. 

****

* * *

 

****   
  


Back in the kitchen, he’d missed the hushed conversation. The way Alfred was trying to insist to Jim that he was fine and the way Jim was certain that Alfred was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress. 

****

“I told you I’m fine, if I was cracking that bad I’d have called and handed the boy to his uncle by now. Gordon, I can cope. I was told it could take months before I’m fully healed and I might never be, I’ve seen worse, death isn’t new to me kid.” Alfred growled turning away to grab a towel and start drying the dishes he’d been washing. 

****   
  


“That’s my point Alfred, you’ve seen things, things far beyond anything I had in my five years, you forget we have access to records and I’ve seen yours.” He sighed. “Have you ever taken counselling for what happened?”

****

Alfred froze, his grip on the glass he was holding making his knuckles turn white. 

****

“No, I don’t need help...I’m fine.” He ground out, but the shiver in his voice gave Jim hoped he’d find the reason why Alfred was suddenly letting himself sink away. 

****

“I wouldn’t be...you don’t lose more than half a platoon and walk away without regrets Alfred.”

****

“I’m not talking about this.” He placed the glass on the dryer and stormed from the kitchen, Jim on his heels as he made for the stairs but Jim grabbed his arm turning him and pressing him to the wall. 

****

“I’m not asking you to talk, not now, not here...but this isn’t you Alfred, you know pain better than most, why can’t you admit most of what you’re feeling might just be in your head?” Jim begged watching the older’s face for some sign of understanding.

****

“If It was just in my head it wouldn’t hurt”

****   
  
  


Bruce was crossing the top of the stairs when he caught the conversation drifting up to him.

****

“I need the drugs, Jim, I’m in pain, this has got nothing to do with Martha or Thomas anymore, it’s got nothing to do with Afghanistan, I’m fine”

****

Quickly diving into the closest room he listened carefully as Jim continued to beg with Alfred.

****

“You don’t need it, the tramadol works enough…”

****

“You sound just like that fucking Doctor…”

****

“Alfred, medical cannabis can only go so far, it wears off and eventually you're going to chase something stronger if you aren’t already...you need to see to this before it affects both of you, it could get you hurt if something happens when you're not sober.” Jim begged again blocking the steps. 

****

“So what?...You're going to give me a way for how I can fucking I distract myself from feeling like my chest is on fire, Gordon...give me a better distraction from my own fucking mind and I’ll consider it”

****

Jim let him pass and Bruce turned to find himself in his parent's room. 

****

He listened distantly as Alfred made for his rooms and Jim let himself out of the main door. The room was dark and growing stale but he noticed the dust was barely visible, Alfred must have been cleaning. 

****

He stood by the bed to pick up his mother’s old teddy bear, a ragged little thing covered in patches and threads coming free, but it made him smile, remembering the nights he’d spent curled up on her knee while she read to him and he held the bear. A sense of hope and safety he’d not had for a long time. 

****

Something he’d only recently found in Alfred’s arms, but it was as if no matter how hard he held onto the man he couldn’t feed something inside him. A desperate need for a familiar soul.

****   
  


Alfred was doing drugs. 

****

The words of Jim rattled back into his mind and he placed the bear back down, dropping on the bed with a sigh, fighting back tears. He’d driven the strongest man he knew towards an ugly and unhealthy habit to cope with the pain he’d caused him. 

****

He was about to leave the room when the door was gently pushed open and he looked up to see Alfred standing there holding his can. 

****

Oh, he’d left it in Alfred’s room. 

****

“What you doing in here?” He asked quietly holding out the can and Bruce took it gingerly unsure what to say. There were questions on his tongue and he didn’t know how to be gentle.

****   
  


“Nothing” Bruce sighed finally looking up at Alfred’s face.  “What did Jim want?

****

“Nothing important, typical cop following dead ends.” Alfred lied, his jaw setting and turning away, Bruce set down the can and made after him out of the door grabbing his wrist. 

****

When Alfred turned back for a split second he saw what could only be described as pain in Alfred’s eyes before it was filed away with concern.

****

“I’m sorry”

****

It hadn’t been what he’d wanted to say, he'd said it so many time before but asking Alfred outright about what Jim had said was just not easy to admit. 

****

Alfred blinked and swallowed. “I told you, you don't have to say sorry to me”

****

“How else do I fix this?” Bruce asked voice trembling and Alfred’s eyes softened. “How else do we fix us?” 

****

Unable to find words Alfred pulled the boy into his arms and sighed heavily into the lad's shoulder when Bruce hugged him just as tightly back. 

****

The wealthiest family in Gotham were left with just two broken souls. 

****

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was two days after that Bruce ran into Jim Gordon in the streets and he demanded to know what he knew about Alfred’s new habits.

****

Jim floundered before grabbing the boy's arm and pulling him down the road to the nearest coffee shop. 

****

“So it is legal?” Bruce asked now they were settled at the far end of the shop, coffee for Gordon, tea for Bruce.

****

Jim nodded. “They only give out the stuff when they deem it medically helpful anyway, they’ve checked his records, Bruce, they cleared him for the use of it, but I-I’m still not happy he’s using it, I let it pass for some time but now I’m thinking he needs something better…”

****

“He said it was for the pain” Bruce admitted and that’s when Gordon knew the boy had heard more than he’d first let on. 

****

“He said the sword wound was bothering him, that the medication the hospital gave him on isn’t working but at night, but I’m sure it’s just his imagination. It happens a lot in soldiers, Bruce, their mental health affects their nervous system. Their brain makes them think they're in more pain than they truly are...he’s hiding secrets, the trauma looks to have triggered what they call PTSD”

****

“Post-traumatic stress disorder, my dad told me about that when I was about five, he used to have nightmares...” Bruce nodded.

****

“Unlike your father, Alfred never took counselling for what happened to him, one of the reasons why I was annoyed he had agreed not to force you into it when your parents died…locking things away doesn’t help.” Jim sighed.

****

“Doctor’s would usually prescribe antidepressants and therapy for this sort of thing, but Alfred is too far gone and more pills might lead to him actually becoming addicted. At the moment we can pull him back, his use isn’t frequent enough but his dose is large enough that I feel he must be knocking himself unconscious” 

****

Bruce frowned. “How the hell am I supposed to bring this up Jim, he’ll fight me, if he knows I'm on to him he’ll either get worse or-”

****

“He won’t, Bruce he’s hiding it from you because he’s ashamed of it, he doesn’t want to look like he’s failing to be the rock you need, his training will be so ingrained he’ll be fighting with himself about what he’s doing, he’s more likely to break down when he finds out you know...you need to approach this, catch him if you can, make him talk...don't tell him to stop, don’t tell him he should get help, be his help Bruce, I know you told him you wanted to change things in Gotham, well, here’s the start, your first step will be Alfred, save Alfred from what Ra has done and you can build on it…” 

****   
  
  


Bruce waited out until it was almost dinner before returning to the manor. Walking around the markets and shops trying to plan what he was going to say. Alfred had always found the right words to save a situation, change the mood, motivate him, but Bruce wasn’t in touch with any emotions apart from confusion and pain. He realised as he stood staring into the window of the bookshop, that Alfred was probably feeling the same way. 

****

He needed unbiased and unprejudiced advice from someone who didn’t know Alfred, from someone who had life experience further than Jim. When he spotted the old lady in the bookshop he had an idea. He’d seen her before, he was pretty sure she was related to one of the boys from his Maths class, she’d do. 

****

Entering the shop, the little bell ring echoing around the shelves, he made for the self-help section next to the cooking book section which the old woman was browsing just behind him.

****

Spotting a book about depression he picked it out and scanned the blurb. The sticker stated best seller and it didn’t look too corny so he guessed it could help him help Alfred and himself in some ways he admitted with a sigh before turning to crouch and browse the lower shelf of the cooking book section. Perhaps buying Alfred a new cookbook might give him something to do...he knew quite a few things but it never hurt to have a collection. 

****

“Bruce?”

****

He fought down the smirk that wanted to creep onto his lips and glanced up at the old lady beside him. 

****

“Oh hey” He couldn’t recall her name but it was likely to pop up in his head in conversation.

****

“What you doing out this late sweetheart, it’s getting dark” She nodded to the window and indeed the sky was greying out.

****

“I-I just came to get something for Alfred, he’s not very well” He admitted with a put on sigh, knowing very well the old lass didn’t know Alfred personally.

****

“That’s your family’s old butler?”

****

He nodded and she hummed. “How’s he been?”

****

Bruce blinked and looked down at the book in his hand. “Not great, he’s not eating, sleeping, he’s in a lot of pain after the accident…”

****

“I heard he was attacked, not that the police allowed for much more than a statement in the papers. Our Daniel mentioned he didn’t bring you to the school when you went for your exams.” She reached out for a book on some chef Bruce had never seen before changing her mind and picking up the one about sushi making. 

****

“Yeah, yeah he was...stab wound to the chest...was in the hospital for weeks...I think he’s depressed so I thought maybe some of this and a distraction might help.” He said holding up the book and gestured to the shelves. 

****

They fell silent for a moment while the old women read the back of the book before placing it back down. “What was Alfred...before he came to work for your father I mean?”

****

“A Royal Marine, he’s British. Worked for the air service as well I think…” Bruce said picking up a book called 101 Recipes For Winter. That could be helpful. 

****

“Hm, a lot of secrets then…”

****

Bruce swallowed and stood up. “Everyone keeps saying that...people tell me to get him to talk, he doesn't trust a lot of people, won’t see Doctors about it, I-I don’t even know where to start, I can’t even imagine how he feels but it must be bad, he’s started smoking again…”

****

The old lady paused and looked to her cane in thought. 

****

“Our Barry’s father was like that, hated the idea of thinking there was something wrong with him, hated to admit he had a weakness, that he could fail. All soldiers suffer from that I suppose...he took up writing his war stories and then burnt them, it changed him. Letting it all out and then watching the memories burn. He was actually happier for it for the last few years of his life, he never went into serious detail when he did talk, alcohol was his thing...he would talk about people he’d lost, women he’d gone through and then fall asleep. But never the blood or the gore he’d seen.”

****

Bruce looked out of the window wondering what Alfred would have to tell him. This lass was close on seventy, she must be, so her husband’s father would have probably seen the second world war...he was thankful Alfred wasn’t that old.

****

“As we get older love, we get wise to emotions, we get used to telling white lies to save face and feelings. We grow accustomed to gossip and the drama that evolves, fall into the arms of other people for comfort and revel in each other's joys. But sharing pain can be hard with someone like yourself so young, you don’t deserve to feel such heartache, shouldn’t need to worry about us growing old. You should be free to live and know someone loves you, cares for you, will always be there...your mother was adamant about caring. She would always find ways to convince your father to help the next cause, she would always tell people that what the heart wants isn’t always wrong, but to be an adult, to be that sort of person you must be able to look at yourself, consider your world, your voice, your beliefs and be prepared to compromise, to accept peace in life, for Alfred, the only thing you can do sweetheart is try. The fact you try to show him the care he’ll forever offer you, is something none else will…”

****

Bruce left the shop only minutes after. Books purchased, a simple excuse of ‘I better get back to him, it’s dinner time’ and he was walking through the gates of the manor.

****

Alfred was as he guessed, sat in the living room, but he didn't fly to his feet like usual, didn’t start asking questions like an overprotective parent and that made Bruce worry. 

****

As he got closer he found that Alfred must have nodded off and jolted awake as soon as he touched his shoulder.

****

“Where the bloody hell have you been? Your dinner’s ready.” Alfred's voice was cracked, gruff and worn like he’d been shouting but when Bruce finally caught his eyes he realised it was because the butler had been crying. Whatever was bothering him was literally choking him. 

****

Setting the bag down he forced a smile. “Met Jim, went shopping, stopped by the bookstore and met with Danny’s gran, we got talking that’s all.” He smirked using the words Alfred had used on him.

****

At the mention of Jim, Alfred looked away into the fire. “He called me about that” 

****

Bruce gulped unsure just what he could say before Alfred started apologising and noticed the boxes on the coffee table.

****

“You want me to take it?” He offered knowing that Alfred probably wanted it out of reach, he’d be planning to go cold turkey and lock himself up to force himself to quit. 

****

Alfred merely nodded, clearly having lost his voice now. 

****

Bruce gingerly took hold of the boxes and pulled them into his lap opening them to view the contents. One was almost empty, the other was still full. 

****

He’d never seen drugs up this close, he’d smelt people using them in the streets when running with Selina, but had never actually handled any.

****

Shutting the box he swapped the books out for the boxes in the plastic bag.

****

“Got you a present, I thought it might give you something to do this week.” He offered, holding out the cookbook and Alfred finally looked back, eyes brimming with unshed tears glancing between him and the book before taking it with an unsteady hand. 

****

It made Bruce’s heart break to see him like this. Alfred had never been this low, even after his parents died, he’d never seen him mourn his friends. But Alfred wasn’t allowed to hide these days, couldn’t afford to with half of Gotham wanting Bruce’s head and money. He’d been trying to hide in plain sight. 

****

The book he’d brought had said that. That most people hide their pain behind fake smiles to avoid questions they had no real answers to. 

****

“Trying to tell me something?” Alfred half smirked sitting up and Bruce could see the walls dropping back into place.

****

“Danny’s gran said all men know how to cook...I don’t...if I’m legally going to be a man in two years then I think I need teaching now.” He lied knowing very well she’d not said a thing but the idea that Alfred could focus on teaching him, spending time with him outside of school and his business meetings might help them find common ground. 

****

Alfred chuckled sadly. “Y’ know, my mother said something along those lines too.”

****

And suddenly Bruce was home, a familiar soul in a place he knew well, the fire bathing the room in light and heat and the smell of dinner floating from the kitchen. But most of all, it was those bright blue eyes. Powerful like an ocean, something that held such depths of knowledge and a wisdom he wished to know, they always stunned his heart still, would force it to skip a beat and then some, made him want to know what else Alfred was made of. 

****

They offered everything in just one look and Bruce prayed silently he’d never miss them for a day. 

****

* * *

 

****

Dinner went quietly, Alfred actual forced himself to sit and eat even if it wasn’t much. Bruce felt all night that Alfred wanted to say something about what he’d done, but it was as if saying the words out loud would only make them too real. He’d have to admit what he’d done and accepted the problem. 

****

Not easy for a man like him. So Bruce found that compromise as they sat back on the sofa afterwards with the self-help book in his lap. Alfred expected him to take the drugs and destroy them, but Jim had asked him not to stop him. 

****

“How many do you smoke a day?”

****

Alfred had paused in playing with his whiskey tumbler at that. “What d’you mean?”

****

Bruce tilted his head at the plastic bag on the floor by the sofa where he’d left it and noticed the way Alfred’s face darkened, it took him a moment to speak up, but he did. 

****

“Four, maybe five. Depends wha’ the day is like.” 

****

“Does it help or do you think you’re just trying to convince yourself it does?” Bruce asked flicking the page not seeing anything useful. 

****

Alfred fell quiet again, but once more the words eventually came out. “I don’t know, maybe the first few times it did, it just made it go away” 

****

Bruce frowned and shut the book. “Taking you off it could be dangerous Alfred, it won’t hurt to keep it around”

****

Alfred half snarled at the floor, clearly, he didn’t want the pity games, he didn’t want to look like another drug user case. 

****

“Two”

****

Alfred glanced back up confused. 

****

“I’ll take it off you when I think you can cope, but I won’t have you in pain if you really are Alfred. You're down to two a day and you’ll have to come to me when you want it, okay?” Bruce offered firmly enough that it got his point across without sounding harsh. 

****

Seemingly confused about how Bruce was taking this Alfred just nodded. 

****

“If you’re expecting me to be mad then you're wrong, there are worse things, this stuff is legal, you are allowed it, therefore I’m not arguing with medical professionals. But I will stand with Jim here and say this isn’t what you need.” 

****

Alfred gulped and Bruce knew he was desperate to admit he’d done the illegal stuff too. 

****

“Jim told me about the other stuff Selina had brought you” 

****

The guilty look on the butler's face made him worry further that there was a rabbit hole somewhere he was going to uncover along with the real depths of Alfred’s issues and they were not going to be pretty. 

****

“That’s over with and there’s no point in me being mad about that either, because you’ll be mad enough at yourself and that will do because you know you did the wrong thing, I don’t need to reiterate it. You're a grown man. You don’t need your sixteen-year-old employer who you're meant to be in charge off, telling you how to live.” Bruce sighed tossing the book down and standing. 

****

Alfred snorted in anger at himself trying not to look nonplussed when Bruce took the empty whiskey glass from his hand with a smirk.

****

“I think three is enough…”

****

_ Ye cheeky cocktease telling a man when t’drink,  _ Alfred thought wondering if Bruce would start monitoring his actions.

****

“Thought y’ weren't going t’tell me how to live?” Alfred smirked back. 

****

“Cup of tea and then bed, huh?” Bruce smiled looking up at the clock and Alfred looked down at his watch. It was almost eleven. 

****

With a tone that was somewhere between sarcasm and admittance, Alfred stood up and followed him into the kitchen again. 

****

“You're the boss Master Bruce”


End file.
